


Constellations

by keeryeun



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, One Shot, Suicidal Thoughts, daryl likes stars, jesus likes flowers, set after the war, this is more of a vent fic on my part i apoligise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 05:24:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10655802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keeryeun/pseuds/keeryeun
Summary: 3am. Again, the reoccurring hour. The 'Devils hour' for some and for one it was more often true than not. Although the devil Daryl was fighting was none other than the one composed by the sorrow sympathies in the dark crevices of his mind.(Please read warnings in tags!)





	Constellations

3am. Again, the reoccurring hour. The _'Devils hour'_ for some and for one it was more often true than not. Although the devil Daryl was fighting was none other than the one composed by the sorrow sympathies in the dark crevices of his mind.

The devil that urged him to to fight, to feel and to face consequences - those he was not willing to face. The one that whispered vulgar into his ear from the sweet abyss. The voice he couldn't push away, the toxic friend who he unwillingly let into his presence and now is struck with the burden of theirs.

It won't leave, it won't silence.

It stays shrouding in chasms of his brain, in a maze it cannot seek a finish point - a never-ending journey.

Daryl lay in bed, his sweaty palms clasping at the thin layer of white sheet sticking to his clammy body. He stared at the one crack on the ceiling. The one that had always captured his eye from the first night he found residence in Barrington House. It was almost the shape of a _"z"_ , the archer often traced it with a finger in the air from the bed below to try smooth his thoughts and fall asleep. He'd come accustomed to how it looked that he reckoned if even a speck of plaster were to glitter to the ground he would be able to notice.

He sometimes imagined it as a constellation. Since he had been banished from sleeping outside by a worrisome Maggie it was something he didn't realise how much he appreciated until he was deprived of it for most nights. It was something he'd picked up as a kid - studying constellations that is. That's why he didn't feel out of place or discomposed as he lay on the bench under the stars, separate from the sickening warmth and homeliness from Jesus' crowded trailer. It was something he sought out as a child. He preferred the cool air and starlit darkness of the outdoors and the sound of night creatures and feeling of feathered blades of grass against his bare skin. Rather than the damp, hardwood floor of his family home - if you could call it a home, the piercing shrieks of his parents, the stench of alcohol and cigarettes lingering wherever he lay and the searing pain that itched on his back whenever his father entered the room.

That's why he found comfort in the outdoors. It was more his home that the four walls and a roof he spent nights of his youth. It was the familiarity of all the senses as he lay on the bench staring at the constellations. Orion, Ophiuchus and Aquila, his star sign - Taurus, his favourite star Elnath, the second brightest in the constellation but none the less his preferred of the group, the tip of the left horn of the bull , 700 times hotter than the sun, it's name translating to _"the butting one"_ \- hence the bull.

He wasn't exactly sure how he remembered all this information, it just seemed to stick with him from the book he'd found in fourth grade when told he was to pick out a title from the school library. He eventually took it out in his name so much that the librarian offered him to keep it. He wished he had taken it from home when the world went to shit. It was one of those things, every kid had one interest that overpowered the others, wether it be Barbie or dinosaurs or baseball, Daryl's just happened to be stars. Not space, planets, he didn't aspire to be an astronaut, he just found this the complexity and stories behind stars and how immensely huge they were; it impressed him how insignificant every human and planet in the solar system was to the magnitude of a single star. And how even billions of light years away they were big enough to be seen by human kind - in contrast to size, a stars bacteria.

It wasn't an interest he happened to share with others. Most kids his age were into sports and other sorts that didn't appeal to Daryl at all. Daryl would've called the interests meaningless, but he did just showcase how insignificant we were in the company of a star.

So, as he was banned from the cool night sky due to Maggie's fear of him getting ill, he managed to envision the balls of light on the back of his eyelids as he lay quiet in the bouncy mattress. His thoughts raced his mind as his wrists and hands itched. It had been a while since his urges had been this strong, since that voice had been so prominent and loud in the back of his mind, shouting out to him through the darkness to just get it over and done with.

He didn't think he was ever suicidal. He was destructive, yes, self-loathing and impulsive. But he was suicidal, he only found out when he came into realisation that he jumped at any opportunity that improved the chances of his life coming to an end. He realised when he offered to go on any run - however dangerous, when he ran through open fire without any cover, when he offered his own life whenever there was a situation in which sacrifice was the only option, when he no longer fear pound in his heart as he stared through a gun barrel or at the tip of a baseball bat.

He'd felt that way for a while now, it just happened to get worse after Beth died, when he started stubbing his cigarettes on his skin and depriving himself of food and water. And then Tyreese, he hadn't known him well, but well enough to know he was a good man and that he was leaving a broken sister behind. Then it was Carol leaving, he needed a friend to talk to whilst Rick was preparing for a war but she had gone without a warning or reason and left him wondering why. Then Abraham, they hadn't gotten along like two peas in a pod but he was family nonetheless, it upset him more that the man had finally found a source of happiness in times of dread and despair, and he was taken away before it could last.

And then it was Glenn. The one he could never forgive himself for. The one that haunted him every time he saw the bump in Maggie grow, the sight of the woman sat at his grave every morning, speaking softly to the flowers lain on the dirt with tears occasionally welling in her bright eyes. He apologised, truly meaning it, not expecting forgiveness from the other part but she willingly took him in her arms and assured him it wasn't him. He knew it was. He always would and nothing anyone said would change that. He had to take responsibility for his impulsive actions, he didn't want to be patronised and treated as if he was uninvolved in his best friends demise when if he hadn't wanted to be the one to face the barbed wire bat himself he wouldn't have swung his arm. It hurt him every day and always would.

Lastly, Sasha. He felt partly guilty on her part the same. He'd confidently told Jesus that her and Rosita would be back at Hilltop, they could handle themselves. And he knew that wasn't a lie, but he also knew that two rogues against a mass army was not a bet to be placed. So he did nothing about it when he could've. Another person he felt responsible for then being taken away from Maggie.

The war was over, Negan was captured and placed in the cell in Alexandria, hence why Daryl had taken residence at the Hilltop. As much as he didn't want to be around Maggie and her almost born baby, he couldn't live in the same place as the man who helped shackle him down to his lowest of lows, making his life more of a living hell than it was before. He wished Negan had killed him. Truthfully he thought he would've, and he was sickeningly content as he sat in the cell and came to realisation that out of the family he was the one getting what he deserved.

It was there it also came to him that he wanted to die, but he couldn't do it himself. He simply didn't have the guts to. He remembered when he and Andrea had found the man hanging from a tree at Hershel's farm, limp body along with note attached. He remembered how he'd reacted, thinking how selfish the person was and how stupid they were, not realising that he was in their same mindset, only seeing it from a different perspective. And so, he'd gone out of his way since then for someone else to do the job for him, so nobody could call him a coward or say he'd given up.

The itching on his wrists became unbearable and he shot up from the bed. He swung his legs around the side of the mattress and slipped on his boots. He slept in his day clothes, well, of what sleep he could count and so was already prepared for any situation. He stood and quietly creaked open the door of the bedroom, shuffling his way to the front door of the house and stepping outside to the cool night air. He exhaled deeply and closed his eyes and the feeling on his wrists dawned down.  
He listened to the sound of the crickets chirping into the darkness and walked over to the picnic table, stepping onto the bench and setting his weight down on the tabletop, slowly laying down on his back with his head perched atop of his crossed arms. He took some deep breaths as he stared at the star littered sky, his mind slowly calming as he traced the constellations with his finger discreetly under his strands of dark hair.

He inhaled sharply and flinched when another voice came from behind him, surprisingly so it wasn't the one in his mind.

"Thought you had a curfew for spending the night out here?" The tone of Jesus' familiar voice disrupted the silence of the night.

Daryl then sat up abruptly and huffed, unsure on wether to continue a conversation or not.

"Don't tell her" he managed to squeeze out in a raspy drawl just over a whisper.

The younger man managed a small smile before assuring he wouldn't tell Maggie of Daryl's rule-breaking before gesturing at the space beside him on the tabletop.

"Do you mind if I...?" He asked, Daryl giving an almost unrecognisable shake of the head before he began fidgeting with his hands whilst Jesus sat in the spot to his left on the table.

The two men had become friends over the course of the war between them and saviours, they worked well together and had a mutual respect for one another. They weren't necessarily close but close enough that Daryl didn't turn down the opportunities to be with Jesus any longer, he trusted him.

"Why are ye out here?" Asked Daryl, his eyes not parting from the ground when he asked his question.

"Same reason as you I presume"

Daryl doubted that but let the other man elaborate.

"Couldn't sleep." Jesus finished before taking a deep breath.

He wasn't far off, Daryl couldn't sleep but there were a lot more reasons as to why that was that he wasn't comfortable with sharing.

"Why'd you like it out here so much? Better than your room in Barrington?" Jesus pondered, running his eyes around the premises as if to find something Daryl was there for.

The archer shrugged a little and hummed, his fingers now doing a dance beside his thigh on the wooden surface of the table.

"Mmm, I like the stars" Daryl mumbled his regrettable words and his finger dance increased pace.

He caught Jesus smiling from the side of his eye as he looked at the night sky, the moon and stars reflecting on his pupils as he took each breath in the fresh air.

"S'stupid sor-"

"No it's not, trust me, I'm the one that knows the meaning of each flower in this place" Jesus interrupted Daryl with a smile on his face, his head still tilted upwards at the sky.

That's it. Jesus liked flowers. Daryl remembered now, he'd seen him very specifically pick various colours and place them on specific placed or give them to specific people. He'd never really thought anything of it but now that he was thinking he did recall the younger man explaining to Maggie the meaning behind a chrysanthemum he'd placed in a glass at the side of her bed. "A life of ease" he had explained, it was something that Maggie deserved more than most, especially now with her baby on its way.

Maybe that was one of the reasons why Daryl was drawn to Jesus, he didn't have one of the "meaningless" interests, it was unusual and intricate and required time to learn about. When he thought about it more, only made sense he like stars and Jesus like flowers. Flowers were delicate and pretty, yet strong in the sense of showing a person how another felt about them. Stars were powerful and bright, from afar they seemed to be close to their constellation group yet if you were to travel up close, you'd find they were more lonely in the black abyss of space than it may seem from down below on earth.

In a poetic, elaborate and almost pretentious way in Daryl's mind, it suited their characters just right.

"Teach me about them, the stars" Jesus commanded as he turned his head to face Daryl's silhouette.

"I want to know about flowers" The archer replied, following the other mans action and looking him in the eyes.

"That's a deal" Jesus smiled, "but daylights better for flower picking" he continued with a smirk grasping his lips.

"Fine" Daryl agreed before taking a deep breath and tilting his head towards the sky, lifting his arm and pointing to a star in the sky.

"That one belongs to Sagittarius, the archer."

**Author's Note:**

> sorry if none of this made sense I wrote it at 3am, it's hard to get what I'm trying to think in my head typed out in word form!!
> 
> I did a lot of googling to find out about stars so forgive me if its inaccurate


End file.
